


Bed for Two

by themoonandmargot



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff, Harmless Drinking, Humor, Japan Adventures, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: After a drunken night in Japan, Shayne would like nothing more but to pass out in the nearest bed. Specifically, Damien's bed. Damien is less than happy about that.





	Bed for Two

“Hey, Shayne. Shaaaaayyyne.”

In spite of the foot Damien uses to nudge him awake, Shayne buries his face deeper into the mattress. He’s drifted into an alternate dimension, where he’s surrounded by white matter – or maybe it’s white nothing, stretching out into the rest of nothing. He floats, not fully aware of the space he occupies. And for a second it’s scary, being this alone, but then he realizes the sheets smell like Damien. Clean, familiar. He decides he likes how Damien smells.

_Yeah_ , Shayne thinks as his vision shifts to black.  _Way too much sake._

“Hey, buddy, I know you’re absolutely wasted, but do you maybe want to return to your bed, on that side of the room?” Damien asks, patting Shayne’s back.

With the sound of skin on stiff denim, Shayne realizes he still hasn’t changed out of his outdoor attire. He can’t imagine changing clothes now, not when he’s this exhausted. And the idea of getting up and taking the long trek to his bed, at the whole opposite end of the room? Even less plausible.

“ _Nnnnnnggghhhhhhh_ ,” Shayne replies, reaching for the duvet that Damien had initially peeled off of him. It escapes his fingers in an instant, and he thinks it’s chance that Damien just happens to start talking again.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Your bed, you. My bed, me. This is my bed. You’re in my bed. I’d like it if you weren’t, please.”

Weird. Usually Shayne doesn’t find Damien’s voice this annoying. Maybe this strange alternate universe has a Damien that Shayne doesn’t like. Even weirder – a Damien that Shayne doesn’t like.

Damien’s voice drifts in from the opposite ear now, then behind him. “Okay, you’re really gonna make me do this, aren’t you?” Shayne doesn’t necessarily understand him, but then he feels a pair of hands grip his waist. He pictures his own torso, the way it starts wide at the top then shrinks into his pelvis (“Dorito boy!” he hears a girl exclaim, the blond one with the good eyebrows). The intimacy of this touch sends alarm signals to his brain, and suddenly he’s gripping the top of the mattress for reasons he doesn’t really understand.

Damien struggles behind him.  _The bastard’s trying to shove me back to my bed_ , Shayne thinks, irritated. Then Shayne hears a sounds he likes – Damien laughing, labored yet undeniably amused. He remembers that sound, from lots of different occasions, but he remembers one in specific.  _Yeah, my family always told me not to sleep in front of mirrors_ , Damien had explained with a bashful laugh.  _I know it’s silly, but I’m just not used it. Something about spirits and stuff._

The shapes and colors behind Shayne’s eyes float into place and suddenly, it all becomes clear to him, like a spotless slab of reflective glass. He sees their hotel mirror, hanging on the wall across from Shayne’s bed. Though his pounding head prevents him from thinking too hard, Shayne understands a certain truth: as long as the Haas family is superstitious, and that mirror stays nailed to the wall, there’s no way Damien is sleeping in that other bed anytime soon.

Damien steps back with a final grunt of defeat. “Alright, fine. I’m sleeping in my bed and I don’t care if you fall off in the middle of the night.”

“Good,” Shayne manages to say. He’s satisfied about this turn of events, but he senses that he’d feel more accomplished if he were sober.

“And you can’t complain if I accidentally cuddle with you.”

“Mm… accidentally.”

“Yes,  _accidentally_.”

The hotel falls into blessed darkness as the opposite end of the bed shifts under Damien’s weight. He twirls onto one shoulder then flips onto the other, trying to find the perfect arrangement of body and blankets, and Shayne wonders if Damien is always this antsy before falling asleep. A tiny part of Shayne’s brain thinks Damien needs comforting.

He turns and latches onto Damien so that his face burrows into his friend’s back. Damien jumps in his grasp, then groans. “Seriously, dude?”

None of the annoyance registers in Shayne’s ears. “Japan is better with you,” he slurs, breath warm between Damien’s shoulder blades.

It’s quiet – eerily quiet, dizzyingly quiet – until Damien sighs, and Shayne swears he can feel Damien’s body melt in his arms.  _Sweet repose._

“Japan is better with you, too,” Damien says. His voice is so soft that Shayne almost thinks he’s imagining it. “Good night, Shayne.”

“G’night, Damien.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic requested by two anons on Tumblr. Check out my Smosh blog @shaymiens, and if you'd like, please leave a comment down below! Thanks for reading~


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